


Fine

by Rhianne



Category: Stargate SG-1
Genre: Angst, Episode Tag, Episode: s04e18 The Light, Gen, Gen Fic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-06-04
Updated: 2012-06-04
Packaged: 2017-11-06 19:34:00
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,320
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/422431
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Rhianne/pseuds/Rhianne
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Daniel has to face up to the real reason he ended up on the balcony. Episode Tag for season 4's 'The Light'.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Fine

Daniel was glad that he was alone. Being on his own meant he could pretend that everything was okay, that this was just a normal day in the life of SG-1. Of course, ironically that was actually true, since lately every day had seemed to bring yet another disaster, one more time that they had to fight against overwhelming odds to end up with anything less than a calamity as the outcome. Why should he have hoped that today would be any different? 

They were all feeling the strain: that much was obvious, and being forced to watch as everybody’s faces bore the knowledge of what they had become was too much for Daniel to bear, especially on days like this. They all wore it – Sam, Janet, even Teal’c, whose feelings were easy to read after four years regardless of the ingrained stoicism and reserve of the Jaffa. The years as part of SG-1 had changed them all, that much was obvious. The constant disappointments, the grieving – the true cost of hard won battles against the Goa’uld had left its mark on every member of SG-1, but Daniel was all too aware that the mark in him was easier to see than most. 

The others were all army trained, had known something of what lay in store – had some experience of how to cope with it all, but for all his efforts to conform Daniel was not a soldier. The death and destruction of the years had cost him his faith, the instinctive trust in others ripped away after one betrayal too many. Now, when he looked in the mirror the man who looked back at him was a stranger, a cynical, world-weary man with blood on his hands that Daniel simply couldn’t reconcile with the naïve, innocent man he’d once been. 

At times like that, when his disgust threatened to overwhelm him, Daniel wished more than anything that he’d never opened the Stargate. Even the memory of his love for Sha’re was forever tainted by her death, and the memory of those precious, idyllic months on Abydos weren’t enough to hold back the constant regret. 

It was that regret, his disgust at what he’d seen, what they’d all done in the name of freedom and so-called progress that he couldn’t hide, that caused the sad expression in the eyes of others when they looked at him. 

Whatever he did, however hard he tried, Daniel couldn’t conceal his sadness, that feeling that he had the weight of the world – of several worlds, on his shoulders. Jack had once told him, years before, that his whole body signalled his emotions just as if he yelled them from the top of Cheyenne Mountain through a loudspeaker, before going on to suggest a regular SG-1 poker match to try and teach him to lie convincingly. It seemed the years had done nothing to help in that regard. 

But then the years had not been kind, and there were times, like now, that Daniel wondered what the hell he was doing, continuing to fight in a war he was no longer sure he believed in. And wouldn’t he be popular if *that* ever got out? Not that it was strictly true, of course. He did believe in their war against the Goa’uld. The snakes had stolen everything from him, he had more reason to hate them than anyone else in the SGC, and he’d like nothing better than to see them all wiped out. But Daniel was no longer comfortable with the way in which the SGC was fighting. Had in fact never been comfortable with it. When was the last time they’d gone through the Stargate just to make friends, or for the sake of meeting new cultures and sharing experiences? 

It was always about weapons – finding new technology and more powerful defences – nothing else seemed to matter anymore, and with every disappointing mission, every fascinating society he was dragged away from, all Daniel could see was what was being lost, the cultural and scientific discoveries that were being sacrificed in the never-ending search for weaponry that they never quite seemed to find. There were times, all too frequent these days, that it seemed like Daniel was the only one who could see it, who realised that this ‘meaning of life stuff’ actually meant something, and in its own way could be as much help as guns and explosives in fighting the Goa’uld. The idea that knowledge meant power wasn’t a cliché for nothing, and if Shifu’s dream was anything to go by, too much knowledge could prove to be more dangerous than anything created to explode and destroy. Buildings could be rebuilt, even civilisations could begin again and become stronger than they had ever been, but once knowledge had been lost, or God forbid never even sought in the first place, then as far as Daniel could see the race of men, on any planet, were all just small minded dictators fighting for useless ground. And by going along with the battles, he was no better than the rest of them. 

“Daniel?” 

Sam’s quiet voice startled him out of his thoughts, and as he glanced up to find her standing in the doorway, Daniel realised that he’d been staring blindly at the same page for what felt like hours. Biting back a sigh, Daniel closed his notebook and placed it carefully on the ground next to him. There was so much that he could still learn about this place, but once more his search for knowledge would have to wait. Sam walked hesitantly into the room, searching his face intently as she moved over to sit next to him and smiled. 

“How are you feeling?” 

“I’m fine.” There was that small sigh again, but Daniel refused to be swayed by the reassuring hand on his shoulder. He might not be able to completely mask his feelings the way Teal’c did, but that didn’t mean he had to tell them everything. Besides, even if he did open up and try to explain what he was feeling to Sam, he was all too well aware of the way another military versus civilian discussion was going to end. ‘Shut up, Daniel’ was becoming a regular feature of his conversations with Jack. 

“We’re just worried about you Daniel. The Colonel said that your heart stopped before they could get you back through the Gate.” 

Daniel nodded, his fingers absently rolling his pen over and over in his hands. “I don’t remember,” he replied, and that, in itself, was true. In spite of Jack relating to him what had happened, Daniel had no recollection of being in the Infirmary, or of being carried through the Gate itself. Nothing, in fact, until he’d come to lying on the stone floor of the palace with a blinding headache, staring up at Jack and wondering why the man seemed so scared. 

Being on the balcony, however, was a whole other story. The harsh cold and biting wind that whipped round the building, the feelings of utter isolation and despair – Daniel remembered everything. God knew how long he’d been standing there before Jack arrived: he’d had no concept of time, only of the sheer futility of his existence. Everything had seemed so pointless, and even though, now, Daniel knew that only his addiction had driven him over the side of that rail, he was also honest enough to admit that the emotions themselves had nothing to do with the light. 

The SGC’s demand for new technology and weaponry was certainly nothing new; Daniel could still remember his disappointment when Jack had issued the command to leave the Land of Light with no thought as to the missed opportunities just weeks after he’d returned from Abydos. No, hard as it was for him to deal with the demands of the military, there was an even deeper problem that had been the true cause behind his conversation with Jack on the balcony. 

SG-1 was tearing itself apart. 

His relationship with Jack was going downhill so quickly that Daniel didn’t know if anything could salvage it, and in his bitterest moments, Daniel wasn’t even sure that he wanted to. They didn’t even talk much anymore. Jack ordered and Daniel protested, Jack shouted so he became sarcastic, but they never just …talked. 

Daniel tried to hide it, but he knew that it was fairly obvious when something was bothering him. Jack had once said that his body language practically screamed ‘hands off’, that even a complete stranger would be able to tell that something was bothering him, and Daniel knew that he was right. 

But that didn’t mean he had to talk about them. The fact that people could see that he wasn’t his usual bouncing self didn’t automatically give them the right to know his life story – god knew it would take long enough to tell, even if Daniel wasn’t branded insane the first moment he mentioned aliens. Right from an early age ‘fine’ had become his favourite word. 

‘I’m fine’. 

You’re getting the wrong signals. 

‘Everything’s fine’. 

Why would I possibly be upset? 

Fairly soon ‘fine’ became an automatic response, and now Daniel knew he was as predictable as Pavlov’s dogs. 

Even on those few occasions when he’d wanted to tell the truth, to ask for help, his mouth would say ‘fine’ before he even realised he was thinking it. And once said, fine was a difficult word to take back. 

Then he’d met Jack. 

Jack was the first person in years who could get through the barriers, who could make Daniel open up honestly even when he didn’t want to. If he wanted to be left alone, Jack was there. If he wanted to go and drown his sorrows in the strongest drink he could find then Jack was right there beside me, beer in hand. 

And yet Daniel hadn’t hated him for it. Jack had been there during some of the most difficult times of my life, and he’d come to rely on the man, to trust him in a way Daniel had never before trusted anyone. 

But that trust had been broken, and as a result Daniel had been left floundering, suddenly unsure of everything he'd come to rely on. Of course, it was his own fault. He’d let them – all of them – get too close to him. In three wonderful years finally being part of a real family, he’d forgotten all the hard-learnt lessons that twenty-five years of foster homes and lonely wandering had taught him. 

Never let people get too close. 

They always left, no matter what they promised, and Daniel was left alone to pick up the shattered pieces of himself. And yet, this time… 

He’d broken his one cardinal rule, and allowed himself to hope. 

First had come Machello and those damned bugs. While Daniel had forgiven them for locking him away, and could even understand why they had done it, why it had seemed to everyone, including him, that he had finally gone crazy, the hurt had gone too deep for him to simply forget. Looking back, Daniel could see that it had left him resentful, bitter even though he'd tried so hard not to be. 

He’d thought that three months without Jack had been enough to finally purge the demons that those few days in the padded cell had left, and the sheer joy that he’d felt when he'd finally stood facing Jack after all that time had been wonderful, and yet absence had left them stale, and part of Daniel still wondered whether Jack still wished, even now, that he'd stayed on Edora with Laira. 

Then, of course, before SG-1 could regain its balance as a team of four again, in had come the Tollan, and Makepeace, and Jack's sudden foray back into black ops. There the damage had really been done. Not even the fact that Jack had lied to them all, gone off on his own and could very easily have gotten himself killed was what had hurt Daniel so much. No, the damage had been done in fifteen minutes and a dozen sentences. Daniel knew that Jack hadn’t meant it, could even understand why he’d said those things, but the simple fact that he’d known which buttons to push, even if they were only play acting, should have been enough of a warning for him to back off. 

Jack knew too much about him, about his hopes, and dreams, and fears, and had played him like a violin. And if he could do it once, regardless of motive, then he could do it again. Daniel couldn’t bring himself to risk it, not even for Jack. He’d become used to betrayal, to being rejected for so many years before Catherine had rescued him from the streets, but the SGC had spoiled him, made him too reliant on other people, and Daniel couldn’t bear the thought that it might happen again. That it was, in fact, already happening, because increasingly Daniel felt as if he was the outsider, the one that was merely tolerated, and that knowledge was the final straw that he just couldn’t bear. 

And yet, there was nothing he could do about it. The SGC was the only life he had, and even though he felt like an outsider, and that he hated what he was having to do in its name, Daniel had nowhere else to go, and there was nothing he could do other than watch as everything fell apart around him. And that was the real reason why Daniel had found himself out on that balcony. 

Sighing, obviously realising that he was still in no mood to talk, Sam climbed wearily to her feet, making her way towards the door before turning back and looking at him once again. 

“Daniel? You sure you’re ok?” 

No. I’m not. 

I think I’ve lost my best friend. 

“I’m fine.”


End file.
